Birth Day
by twisted-sheets
Summary: A mother's thoughts as she gives birth to her only son in blood and pain and the scent of peonies. Naruto's mother's thoughts as she gives birth to him.


**Disclaimer:** I do not own Naruto. However, I **DO** have the same birthday as Naruto. XD I'm older though, and I'm pretty sure I'm not possessed by the Kyuubi.

**Author's notes:** My very first Naruto fic. Be gentle, please. Criticism and comments much appreciated. Done after much insane thinking and after reading and watching Naruto nonstop. Hit me!

**Summary:** A mother's thoughts as she gives birth to her only son in blood and pain and the scent of peonies. Naruto's mother as she gives birth to him.

**Birth Day **

The pain is constant, rippling through my body like water raging against the shores in a storm. It gets stronger as time passes, and no matter how I twist and turn, it remains, clinging to me, spreading, making my body tremble in its intensity. I could have taken something to ease the pain, but I had refused. This was my atonement, my salvation.

It is just the two of us, my husband and I, here in this small hut in the outskirts of the Konohagakure where only candles serve as our light, where silence reigned, broken only by my moans and groans. The scent of blood and sweat is heavy in the air, mingled with the sweet scent of peonies.

Everything is supposed to be a secret, the preparations, the location, hell, even my pregnancy and my marriage were a secret to the villagers. Only the Sandaime knows of what was taking place–not Jiraiya-sensei, not Tsunade-baba, not even Kakashi-kun. Even if they knew, they wouldn't be here. Yondaime, my husband, would not allow it. Besides, they would be busy fighting the Kyuubi.

I heave again as another contraction hits me, forcing another hoarse moan from my parched, bleeding lips. My sweaty hands clutch the damp sheets in a death grip. The Kyuubi. Gods only knew how I hated that creature. Everything was his fault! If he hadn't come...things would have been different!

I lift my head, and I see my husband rise from his seat on the floor, a towel in hand to wipe the sweat on my forehead. He walks, graceful as a panther, and as he comes nearer, I could see that he could not meet my eyes. _Why won't you look at me?_ Before I knew what I was doing, I had raised my hand, and slapped him across the face.

He didn't flinch, but I feel a brief satisfaction when I saw him look at me, azure eyes clouded with pain. Part of me wanted to say, _'I'm sorry, I'm sorry'_, throw my arms around him, and sob. But I didn't do that. I want him to see, I want him to acknowledge what was happening. _Don't turn your eyes away from me. Please don't. Don't deny it. I feel so alone..._

Our gazes hold, blue clashing with my gray ones. _Arashi_, I whisper his name. He takes my hand, entwining his fingers with mine. _Such strong hands...._ I grip it tightly as pain grips my body again.

_Push_, my body commands me, but I resist it. I could _not_. How could I, knowing what lay ahead for my child? To know that as soon as he slips from my body, as soon as the cord that bind us is cut, a demon would claim him as his own, and I, his mother, could do nothing to protect him?

I remember when my husband told me of his plan to defeat the Kyuubi once and for all. I could remember the bleak tone of his voice, the light going out of his once bright blue eyes. I could remember my numb silence, my hands going to my swollen belly, covering it, as if to shield my unborn child.

It was my duty as a shinobi to defend my village, and it was an honor to sacrifice oneself for others, my teachers in the academy used to say to us.

Duty? Honor? What are these to a mother? How could honor and duty compare to a child of your flesh and blood? They were only cold words against the warmth of your child's body as he lay on your chest, feeling him breathe.

But in the end, I knew I would do it. I don't understand why I would do it. Maybe it was the sight of the dead bodies buried daily in mass graves, or the injured brought to us after a battle or attack, or the smell of burnt wood and flesh filling the air as the Kyuubi sweeps into our village, tails lashing, burning, killing and destroying everything in its path.

My body tightens as I brace for the push, and I cry out as I did. Then I could feel something expanding, and something wet and slippery sliding through my legs. The metallic scent of blood fills the air once again, mixing with the lingering scent of peonies.

Blood and pain and the scent of peonies. These were to be my memories of my child's birth. That, and the sound of his strong cry echoing throughout the hut. _Boy_, I hear Arashi whisper in my ear.

I feel myself weaken, my eyelids drooping, strength draining from my body. I turn to Arashi to look at our son, but my gaze turns hazy and dim. _No, no. I want to see my son. No. I must wake–_

**Author's notes:** So, how was it? Bad? Horrible? Overdramatic? I don't think Naruto's mother willingly gave up her child to be given as the holder of the Kyuubi. I think she would have fought. And her slapping Yondaime...well, that was explained. Yondaime's name I picked up somewhere.

**Peonies:** Peonies or botan in Japanese, by the way, grow during...summer, I think and they can hasten childbirth. Naruto was born on October, which was makes it autumn that time. I think you can draw conclusions from that. ::grin::

Please read and review. Thanks for reading! Belated Happy


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